


Choices

by dragyn42



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BDSM, F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-07-23
Packaged: 2020-03-09 04:50:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18909913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragyn42/pseuds/dragyn42
Summary: It’s been a long time since the events of the Chamber. No one knows how it drastically effected the lives of the two primary participants.





	Choices

**Author's Note:**

> Festival: hp_porninthesun 2013  
> Prompt: #66: The Chamber of Secrets changed Ginny. Harry sees the changed Ginny.
> 
> This was a lot of fun, and something I’ve been wanting to write for a while now. This prompt was just the nudge I needed. Thank you prompter. And thank you, too, mods, for your infinite patience. My muse and schedule have made your job more difficult, and you were gracious through it all.

“Alright, goodnight. I’ll see you tomorrow, Harry. Ginny? We should get together at some point.”

Ginny’s response was fairly noncommittal before the door closed on her, but Hermione had expected that. Their friendship had been rocky for years, ever since Hermione’s fourth year (Ginny’s third) at Hogwarts. Ginny had gotten quite upset at Hermione for S.P.E.W., and Hermione had not taken the criticism well. Ginny had ignored Hermione for the rest of the year. In fact, it was only the need for the D.A. that got the two of them talking again.

Their friendship had never quite recovered, though.

Hermione ducked into an alley and apparated home. She hung her jacket on the coat stand and head into her flat’s bedroom to get ready for sleep – after all, she did have work in the morning.

Of course, Ginny had been quite right in her complaints. Hermione was, in fact, placing her own morals on others; deciding that if people, or elves, had free choice, than they would obviously make the choices she wanted them to make because they were the right ones. It took Hermione a long time to realize that some beings simply enjoyed serving others, and the abuses of their masters was not always an indication of ‘wrong’ lifestyles.

She threw on her dressing gown and walked back out to the living room, seating herself at the desk there to finish up paperwork she wanted to make sure was in order before her meetings the next day.

It was actually Ron who made Hermione realize the truth of Ginny’s arguments. He made a very rational argument (which surprised her in itself) about choice, and then pointed out that he would never _choose_ to be with someone who _chose_ to look down on those who made different decisions. It was a hard lesson. It almost destroyed their friendship completely; Ron preferred the company of Harry and his sister.

That was several years ago, now, and their friendships had been rekindled. She had dinner with her best school friends, sometimes together, sometimes separately, at least weekly. And her relationship with Ginny, damaged before it could have been something great, was at least now one of tolerance – mostly for Harry’s sake, Hermione didn’t kid herself – which was better than it had been those years past.

Although, despite her passing friendliness with Hermione, the one thing she always joined in with her was ribbing her boyfriend. Ginny never seemed to pass up a chance to take the mickey out of Harry, who always took it with good grace. And Hermione couldn’t help but take part.

Placing the paperwork into various portfolios, she sealed them with her wand and applied her official Ministry seal, before dropping them into her secure attaché bag. All official Ministry paperwork had to be transported like this – it was one of Harry’s suggestions when he started taking a look at security.

She went to grab the other document case, only to realize it wasn’t where she thought it was. In fact, after looking all through her flat, she realized, she had left it at Harry’s; they had been talking about a few things before dinner. Harry was the most trustworthy, secure person in the entire Ministry, but Hermione’s boss was always looking for reasons to yell at her, so she couldn’t have Harry delivering it to her in the office tomorrow.

Luckily, Harry and Ginny tended to be night owls. Glancing at the clock, she realized they would still be awake, so she quickly threw on some clothes and apparated to Harry’s place.

* * *

“Ginny? We should get together at some point.”

Ginny nodded to Hermione, and shut the front door as Harry’s old classmate turned to walk away. Hermione was nice enough, and was certainly a good friend to Harry, but Ginny had never really gotten over the other girl’s holier-than-though attitudes. They had both gotten a little more tolerant as they got older, but without Harry in her life, Ginny didn’t think she would ever actually be friends with Hermione.

Turning around to kiss her boyfriend, she stopped mid-action at the look on his face. He was glaring at her.

“I have told you time and again, and you just don’t seem to learn,” he said, almost growling.

Even though she was just a bit scared – she hated disappointing him – a shiver also traveled down her spine. She always found an angry Harry to be powerful and sexy.

“Kneel,” he ordered.

“Wha-”

“I said _kneel_.”

Ginny dropped to her knees right there on the hardwood floor, not daring to look up and meet his angry gaze.

“Obviously, I’ve been ignoring you. So perhaps it’s my own fault.”

She waited for him continue.

“For someone who does not like my choice in friends, you seem to have no problems working with her to make fun of me.”

While denying it would be a lie, neither did she confirm it. She didn’t know how bad this was going to get; taking the mickey from him may have just scratched the surface, or it may have brought all his prodigious anger to the surface. She never really knew when he got like this.

She loved it.

“It’s not surprising, really. I don’t pay you attention, you do things like this to get it. Just like any other pet would.” Harry sighed deeply. “But you had to know you would be punished.”

More shivers traveled up and down her spine. He always made it seem like it was a favor to give her the attention she needed, the release he wanted.

“I’m going to have to think about this. I’ll straighten up the kitchen, but when I get to the bedroom, you’d better be ready. If you aren’t, it will only be worse.”

Harry walked off towards the kitchen, and Ginny jumped up from her position on the floor and nearly ran to the bedroom, stripping her clothes as she went. ‘Cleaning the kitchen’ was a ruse, one she had paid for several years ago. It was really simple, once she realized it: Harry had a wand.

When she reached the bedroom, she threw her clothes over into the hamper, and then jumped, now naked (except for her black, leather choker, she never removed that, unless it was to change it at Harry’s whim,) onto the bed. She knelt in the middle of the mattress, her arse on her heels and knees spread, her hands clasped behind her, pushing out her small, freckled breasts.

Her timing was good. She was only waiting for a minute (which felt longer no matter how many times she was made to wait in The Position,) before Harry walked in and surveyed her. He had pulled off his own shirt and left it in the middle of the floor. In two more steps, his trousers were also on the floor, and with some clever footwork, so were his socks. In just his boxers, he slid onto the mattress, shuffling upright on his knees right up to her.

He spent a few moments just studying her naked form, his eyes roaming unashamedly up and down her pale skin. Then, he reached out with his hand and lightly stroked her breasts with a feather touch – it was all Ginny could do not to moan. It really was a truly magnificent feeling. She had loved it immediately, his first hesitant touches when their physical relationship started, more than several years ago. And learning how to tie that new intamacy with their long-standing _other_ relationship was quite an experience, too.

Several of the rules they established – well, he established – were still a part of their relationship. If she were to moan out without his say so, that could be bad. He played at ignoring her. He wanted her to ask for it; to _make_ him use her. But breaking the rules... He would really ignore her. And she feared that.

So, she rode the line, suffering in silence beneath the pleasure that suffused her body, spreading from the delicate contact of Harry’s calloused fingers over her sensitive skin. He could do this for hours – and in the past had. Those ordeals were usually for her sake.

Today, though, he was obviously looking for some release of his own, as he spent only a short, interminable time, before his tickling became stroking. His hands rubbed over her breasts, pressing. His thumbs strummed over her nipples, which had hardened almost instantly when he first touched her.

Involuntarily, her breathing hitched, despite her attempts to keep it even. Sensations, familiar and always special, though dangerous if they made her lose control, slowly swept down her spine, causing tingles between her legs. His hands roamed further afield, moving from her breasts, down the delicate skin of her sides – left vulnerable by her position – and across her hips and stomach.

Then he leaned in, whispering in her ear, his breath a caress of its own on her cheek. “I can feel it, you know.” The warmth of his voice, almost cruel in its delivery, melded with warmth inside of her. “You want to moan. You want to express yourself.”

Her breath hitch again, and she had to control herself.

“You can’t. You’re mine. You’re for my pleasure, only. My pleasure is your pleasure. You don’t get pleasure of your own.”

This was a normal thing with Harry. He would let her know what to expect, but he would always let her know that she was his and had no choice. This particular warning told her that he was going to use her, possibly quite hard.

“Make sure I’m ready. I want to enjoy myself.”

She looked down at his tenting boxers and reached to free him, but had only moved her shoulders a fraction before he interrupted.

“Did I say you could use your hands. You don’t change positions unless I tell you to, or I make you,” he growled harshly. “Now, do it right.”

Bending forward, she took in a breath, the scent distinctly Harry, so that she had air in her lungs when she began using her mouth to free Harry. Biting down on the material only, she used her teeth to open the flap at the front of his boxers. Then, using her tongue, she reached into the garment to pull out Harry’s cock. It got caught for a moment on the clothing, but with enough licking and manipulating, sliding her oral appendage around his sexual one (well, as far as she could, anyway,) his cock popped out of the opening with a smack against her cheek.

“Good girl,” he moaned in satisfaction.

His approval sent a thrill through her. She knew she was doing it right. She also knew she had to continue or his approval would disappear.

Using only her mouth, she took the tip of his hard member into her mouth. She spent time sucking it, almost like a lollipop, rolling her tongue around the stiff, soft flesh, the ever-so-slightly salty liquid leaking slowly from the end. His moan made her proud.

She then worked to take more of his cock into her mouth. Slowly sliding down its length by leaning forward, her lips squeezing tightly around it. She pulled back, the skin sliding over her taste buds, the flavor mixing with his scent. She never got tired of any of the sensations that were Harry. He was her everything.

Back and forth she rocked (it was easier than trying to bob her head,) a little more of his cock filling her mouth, until the tip was bumping against the back of her throat. She had long since lost her gag reflex; she had to in order to pleasure Harry. Making sure to keep the pressure in her mouth, she caressed every inch of his cock with her tongue as it slid between her lips and cheeks.

Eventually, past the point his entire cock filled her mouth each time, and the end repeatedly slid down into her throat, expanding it to fit his girth, he moaned out, and then grabbed her head – an immediate indication for her to stop and let him control her.

But rather than fuck her face, which he had done before, he positioned her so that he filled her mouth, just to point of making it difficult to breath, and then pressed at her temples. He wanted something, and she had to guess what, before the increasing pressure became painful.

It was hard to think when it was hard to breath.

She continued to run her tongue around his cock, tasting it. But the pressure increased. Pressure. Pressure. She wanted to wince, to take a deep breath, but both were denied to her. Pressure.

Pressure! That was it.

Pulling her tongue to the back of her mouth, and attempting to breath in further – something of great difficulty – she increased the pressure her mouth placed around his cock. When he stopped squeezing her head, she did her best to suck every last possible bit of air our of her mouth, squeezing him as best she could.

And then he yanked himself from her, causing her to react quickly so as not to fall forward. She did that once – never again.

“Good job. That was intensely pleasurable, but I want more. Around and on your knees.”

Ginny scrambled quickly. She could not leave him waiting.

She had only just settled her weight on her elbows when Harry grabbed her and thrust into her with no other warning. It was not as if that was a problem; serving Harry, having his full attention and doing anything for him always gave her pleasure. She was lucky he was so good to her. Whenever he played with her like this, she was invariably ready for him, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Her breath was forced from her when Harry thrust into her again, and pleasure shot through her body. It took all her concentration not to moan out loud, and she had only barely been able to suck breath back in when he slammed into her again. And again. And again.

Pleasure and joy suffused her body. Her arms weakened; she was afraid she was going to fall onto the bed (losing control was strictly forbidden for her – not unless he gave her permission.) Breathing became more and more difficult. She wanted to focus on something, anything, that would help her, but all she could feel was Harry, her Harry filling her over and over again. Even the slap of his hips against her arse, shoving her forward onto her failing arms couldn’t supplant the sensation that was Harry inside of her.

And then he cried out, shoving himself into her with one last, mighty thrust, and she could feel him pulse inside of her.

Her own body was crying out for release, but he hadn’t allowed it yet. And so she maintained her position, her arms trembling to hold her up.

Eventually, Harry pulled from her.

She waited to find out what was going to be next. Sometimes he was done with her after his own orgasm. Sometimes he would play with her all night. Once, he used her for almost a whole week – she couldn’t remember ever being happier.

What she wasn’t expecting, though, with his spend dripping from her pussy and down her thigh, was a sharp pain has he smacked her still upright arse.

“You little slut.”

This wasn’t good. She had done something, but she couldn’t for the life of her figure out what. No matter how angry Harry was, he never punished her without reason.

“You red headed whore. You know better.”

A series of sharp smacks shot pain through her arse, making it even more difficult to stay in her position. She didn’t like pain. Her service to Harry wasn’t like that. But when she was deep into it, like she was now, it was as if anything he did to her only made her hotter, happier, lost to everything other than Harry. ‘Subspace’ she had once read it called.

She wanted to orgasm, to fall onto the bed, to do anything other than disappoint Harry. But she couldn’t ask. That would be disastrous. All she could to was struggle to stay on her arms and knees, waiting for his declaration.

“It’s obviously been way too long since I’ve paid you proper attention. You’ve started to forget your training. It’s a shame really, we put in a lot of time together. I don’t have that time tonight. So, we’re going to have to set up a way for you to learn not to _cry out_ like that. I didn’t give you permission. You should know better,” he finished, repeating himself. Not that she would ever even contemplate pointing that out.

This was going to be the most difficult, pleasurable night in a long time. Harry must have been feeling generous tonight. He was clearly happy with her.

With a yank of his hands, he pulled her up from the waist, flipped her, and she fell, briefly disoriented, onto her back, bouncing once on the mattress. And before she could do anything, he was straddling her naked body, his weight holding her down. He reached towards her neck, under and behind it, pulling aside a padded flap they had installed when they first acquired the bed. From under the flap, he pulled a clip – one she knew was attached by leather strap to the base of the bed frame.

A flick of his finger attached the clip to the only clothing she was wearing: her collar. She was now bound at her neck, unable to lift it more than a an inch or two from the bed before she would start to choke herself.

Sliding off of her – which caused her a bit of disappointment – he then pulled the restraints from their clever hiding place in the foot-board, and attached them to her her ankles, ratcheting the straps until her body had very little give between her legs and her neck. If he kept shortening the leather that attacked the fur-lined cuffs to the bed, he may very well have started to strangle her.

Next, he walked around the bed and pulled identical restraints from the pillars on the head-board. Again, he tightened the straps so that her arms could barely move. On the bright side, the pull on both ends of her body kept the clip at her collar relatively neutral.

Ginny shivered in anticipation. It had been ages since Harry had done this for... to her.

Something long and firm was pushed into her, between her legs spread wide. Harry fucked her with it for several moments, before pulling it from her completely, and then pressing it against her rear entrance. She wanted to moan. But that was the whole point. She had lost control and moaned – or something – earlier. She couldn’t do it again. Not now.

The pressure against her sphincter increased, and then the object, slick with her own lubrication, slid into her. It kept going, and then it grew wider, expanding her, before returning quickly to its previous girth. She knew what toy it was – it was specially designed to stay inside of her.

Another object, fatter than the first, was inserted into her pussy. When it stopped sliding, she heard a clicking noise and felt straps placed around her upper thighs. Another piece was clipped onto the harness and her clit was now also covered by the contraption.

“I’m sure you remember the drill. Don’t cry out. You will, of course, but you know you have to try not to. If I hear too many cries... well... don’t let me hear too many.”

And then he left the room.

This was the worst part. The best part. The waiting.

By not speaking (much,) and forcing her to wait, rather than dull her ardor, it simmered, waiting. She felt like a string stretched too tight, ready to snap, which amused her given her current restraints.

_BZZZZT_

She jumped as the plug in her arse vibrated briefly, the sensations shooting through her.

_BZZZZT_

This time the other one shook, its motion transferring across the leather harness, beating against her clit. She jumped again, straining against the restraints, trying to flex only her arms and legs, keeping her head on the mattress.

 _BZZZT BZZZT_ they went off simultaneously.

And then there was nothing. Only the soft-fur padding of the restraints and the cotton against her back gave her any sensation.

_bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz_

A tiny nub on the underside of the leather that crossed her clit began a tiny, persistent flutter against the sensitive nub. The sensations seem tied directly to her nipples, because however much they had hardened before, they were now painful. And she couldn’t move to relieve the pressure.

Then her arse went off again, quick, and hard, and everything was still once more.

Continuously, over a time that she had know way of knowing, Harry’s devices went off randomly, with varying intensities, driving her slowly and quickly upwards, drawing out her orgasmic climb that she knew she had to avoid, despite any desire she had to simply fall into it.

On and on it went. She strained against her bonds, pulling in as she could, pushing herself against the mattress to keep from choking, fighting the sensations that threatened to overwhelm her. She tried to control her breathing that wanted to burst forth from her. And when it got too much – it all stopped once more.

It could have been hours. Perhaps days. Ginny no longer knew. She was lost in the buzzing, the vibrating, the pulsing and shaking that kept taking her to the edge of her control and then away again.

And then it didn’t take it away. She was thrown over, off the cliff, falling endlessly while the toys played a symphony with her body. There was an opera, and she cried out her solo at the top of her lungs while sensations rang out, reverberating through her.

Harry had to have heard that.

But before she could worry about it, the vibrating concert started again, rocketing her back up, and she was screaming out before she could contemplate not.

This time, it stopped – just like earlier – leaving her gasping for breath, her hot skin cooling from her sticky sweat.

Then it started again.

This was Ginny’s existence now. Up and down. Holding back as best she could before being shoved off the edge, or disappointed because she thankfully wasn’t. She had long since lost count of how many times she came. She was hot, sticky, thirsty, sore, and utterly elated that Harry would do this to her, would train her so that she could serve him better.

Harry eventually came into the room. During a lull in her training, she heard the door open and close, and struggling to lift her head (the effort it took guaranteed she couldn’t choke herself) she saw him slip off his boxers, the last item of clothing he was wearing. He gazed admiringly up and down her sprawled, naked form, and lust was clearly in his eyes.

“I heard you, you know,” he stated. “It wasn’t too bad, but I think you need more work. However, seeing you here like this... well... it’s honestly the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. Quite an accomplishment, pet.”

A thrill shot through her at the compliment, different entirely than the orgasms she had experienced for the last whoever knew how long.

“Yes, good job. Even if you didn’t pass with flying colors, you still did reasonably well, and damn if you didn’t finish well. So, I’m going to have to take you again. But your own satisfaction depends on one more test. Let’s see how long you can hold it...”

The toys began vibrating again, like a proper fireworks display. Whereas the entire evening had been pretty spectacular, the grand finale was the same, but more. Bigger. Everything happening at once.

Small quivers and large throbbing, trembling inside of her with short, sudden bursts of joy, overwhelming her ability to think. She concentrated as best she could on not orgasming. It wasn’t that she cared whether she was allowed release with him or not – she was here to serve his pleasure, whatever he wanted made her happy to fulfill. But she would be devastated if she disappointed him, and he wanted her to hold off. So she tried her utmost.

She fought through the encroaching fog over her mind. Her breathing, hard and quick from the evening’s exertions was the hardest to control, because the sharp, short gasps wanted to cry out. The quakes and pulses through her body, her mind, her very being overwhelmed her. She held on for dear life, even more, for Harry. She held on on...

And came. Loudly.

Screeching, her voice burst from her throat as her body fought her restraints, pulling them with the creaking of leather, the fur lining protecting her delicate skin. Her body contracted, pushing against the invaders, but they were held firmly in place, continuing their assault, not letting up.

Her orgasm ripped through her, tearing away awareness of anything other than the pleasure it was bringing her.

Until it was done, and the toys slowed their conclusion, softly lowering her from the clouds. Her heart pounded in her ears to the rhythm of the spasming of her pussy, trying its best to expel its torturer.

_CRASH_

The door to their room shattered open. A familiar voice cried out, “Ginny!” But her mind couldn’t engage to recognize who it was.

“How could you?!” the voice shrieked. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

Ginny knew she should know the voice, and struggled to lift her head. Vaguely, she could make out the bushy, brown hair of Hermione. A little further and she could see the intruder holding her Harry at wandpoint. She needed to sit up. To get Hermione’s attention and explain to the daft bint. She focused all her effort into getting up, the straps holding her arms back, her collar now choking her.

The sound of her choking seemed to panic Hermione whose eyes shot wide and she called off a spell.

Hermione was good, and had a huge range of spells to draw from. She was a formidable witch. But Harry was better.

He side-stepped her wand and snatched it from her hand before she could even finish her incantation. He flipped it in his fingers and glared at one of his closest friends, disappointment and even a hint of hatred in his eyes.

It had gone too far, and Ginny knew she needed to stop them before something irrevocable happened. Using all her strength, she pulled herself against her collar until the safety sprang and the clip released from the restraint, now dangling from the leather choker.

“Harry!” she gasped. “No!”

His gaze turned to her and he asked, “Why?”

“I was screaming, Harry. I’m tied to the bed.”

He paused for a moment before returning his penetrating stare to Hermione. He tossed the wand out of the broken door and growled, “Go. Wait in the living room. We’ll be there shortly.”

“Harr-”

“Get out!” he yelled.

After Hermione had scrambled from the room, he turned his attention back to Ginny. She lay back on the bed, the last of her energy exhausted, and he came to the side, leaning over her. Reaching out, he fingered her leather collar.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine. I’ll be a little sore, but I’m fine.” Her voice was hoarse to her ears. “You need to go talk with her.”

“You want her to know?”

“Of course I don’t. You know my feelings about her. But she’s one of _your_ closest friends. And you know she’s not going to let up until she understands.”

He nodded reluctantly.

“This is our life, Harry, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. But it’s also why we’ve kept is secret all these years. Your happiness is more important than mine. That’s how it works.”

Standing up straight, he flicked his own wand and her restraints released and retracted into the bed frame. “When you’re ready, I expect you out there. I am _not_ dealing with this on my own.”

Ginny tried to smile through her exhaustion and said, “Yes, sir.”

She watched Harry don his boxers from the floor, and then grab his robe, slinging it around his shoulders as he disappeared from the room.

That was definitely not the ending to the evening she wanted. But what happened happened, and now Harry had given her a order.

Carefully, she pulled her arms across her chest, trying to stretch out her joints. Then she slowly sat up and rubbed down her legs (they were really sticky.) She moaned quietly as she moved; the toys were still inside of her and still managed to feel good when they were jostled.

Once she managed to situate herself on the edge of the bed, she began undoing the various hooks and buckles that held her harness on, letting the leather contraption fall to the floor. With a sigh, she pulled the vaginal dildo out, feeling somewhat empty at its loss. She spread her legs and reached for the anal plug, but after a moment’s thought, left it.

Stretching for the nightstand, she opened the second drawer and pulled out two of a myriad of phials they kept in there. Downing them, she felt her energy return, and knew the other one was working at re-hydrating her.

When she finally was feeling up to it, she stood from the mattress, grabbed her own dressing gown, and put in on, tying it over her naked body before heading down to Harry.

* * *

Hermione was pacing around Harry’s sofa. She never paced. She was conflicted: horrified, embarrassed and angry.

How could Harry do that? She thought she knew him better than that. To tie up his girlfriend... And those screams... And how could Ginny let him? She defended him? What had he done to her?

“Sit down, please,” said Harry.

She had completely missed him coming into the room. But at least now he was covered.

“Hermione,” he said insistently from the loveseat. There was still a trace of anger in there. “Please. Sit. Down.”

Considering she had barged into their bedroom, destroying their door, maybe he had a right to be angry. But it was so... ‘wrong’ was the only thing she could come up with. And what was worse, she didn’t even know why.

So she sat on the sofa across from Harry’s seat. Yelling at Harry right now wouldn’t accomplish anything – years of friendship (on and off) had taught her that – so she fought her instincts to immediately barrage him with questions and demand correct behavior. That’s how she lost his friendship to begin with, after all.

“What are you doing here, Hermione?” he asked.

It was certainly not what she was expecting.

“My, uh... the satchel, for work. I left it here. Ginny was screaming.”

“Right. And has it been so long for you that you don’t recognize an orgasm when you hear one? That you need to destroy house? My bedroom?”

Hermione flushed a little. It had, in fact, been longer than she would’ve liked to admit. But that screech, that had sounded like no orgasm Hermione ever experienced.

“I thought Ginny was in trouble.”

“While I appreciate the sentiment, why didn’t you lower your wand when you saw I was in the room with her?” he asked.

When he put it like that, her next response seemed silly. It was _Harry_. Why would she ever think... “Ithoughtyouwereabusingher,” she mumbled, looking at the floor. She felt like a chastised schoolgirl.

“Punishing, not abusing,” came Ginny’s voice.

Looking up, Hermione saw Ginny walking gracefully into the room. Hermione had always been somewhat jealous at how graceful Ginny moved, especially given that the girl could also be such a tomboy. She watched as the redhead slipped into the seat next to Harry, her careful movements telling Hermione that she probably didn’t put on anything under her gown. Harry simply lifted his eyebrow as she adjusted herself on the cushion and leaned into him.

Then her statement really started to sink in. “Pu... Punish?”

“Yes. I had disobeyed a standing order. I needed to be punished. Weren’t you ever punished as a child?”

“But you’re not a child! Harry, you can’t just tie her up and hurt her!”

“Hermione!” snapped Ginny. “Do we need to go through this again? I thought we worked out ‘choice’ a long time ago!”

“Choi... You _let_ him do that to you?!” It was out of her mouth more because it was Harry and Ginny that anything else. She wasn’t a complete prude. She knew a bit about BDSM lifestyles – not that she ever partook. But Harry and Ginny were the most wholesome couple she knew.

Then again, Ginny was arguing ‘choice’ with her when she was thirteen years old. But that meant... “How long?”

“I think you just worked it out for yourself,” said Harry.

“But she was just thirteen?! How could you?!”

“Younger,” said Ginny, without a trace of embarrassment, while at the same time, Harry said, “It wasn’t sex.”

She vaguely heard what Harry said, but couldn’t get over Ginny’s comment. And then it was like a light went off in her head.

“The Chamber,” she said.

“Yes,” said Ginny. “Tom hurt me. The healers insisted nothing was permanent, but I’ve always felt broken. I thought I was hiding it well, but apparently not well enough.”

“Harry figured it out, didn’t he?” asked Hermione. At Ginny’s nod, she said, “He’s always been observant. I often forget how much so. So, what happened?”

“We were both too young to really understand it,” explained Harry. “But, believe it or not, Sirius saw it. He was hiding around more than anyone realized. We sent letters back and forth, and he talked me through what we were discovering.”

“We experimented a bit,” continued Ginny. “And realized that as long as I knew Harry was there, always willing to tell me what to do, then I could be happy. Everything was okay. Nothing made me happier than making Harry happy. It’s still the case.”

“Then all that dating?” asked Hermione. She was curious as to how their relationship fit together.

“We were still figuring things out. We knew how we were together, but Harry wanted me to make sure that I wasn’t tying myself to him out of desperation.”

“Makes sense, in a Harry kind of way.”

“I told her to try other blokes. It had to be more than one, she couldn’t make a decision if the first one was a fluke.”

“Michael and Dean,” Hermione remembered out loud.

“They just weren’t Harry,” said Ginny. “Michael was pushy, but it was all about him. And Dean, well, it was all about me, but he tried too hard to be a gentleman. And then fifth year happened – your sixth.”

“The Quidditch match,” said Hermione.

“Right. When she came in, looking as happy and vibrant as she was, I just couldn’t imagine her with anyone else. I had to have her. I also realized how much she had given me.”

“Oh?”

“Confidence, Hermione. She was my confidence. Every time I lost a game, or did bad in class, or, honestly, when you berated me for not taking homework seriously, I always felt I was somehow not good enough-”

“Dursleys,” muttered Ginny.

“-and I took it out on Ginny. And she let me. And I realized I wasn’t as weak as I felt.”

She looked at the couple so obviously devoted to one another across from her. They didn’t look any different than they had before. She would never know what happened in their bedroom by looking, and wouldn’t have if she hadn’t barged in.

“This is who we are, Hermione. Behind closed doors, I control Ginny whenever I want. I own her and make her feel safe. And in allowing me to do so, she lets me know that there is one thing in my life that is never out of my control. It allows me to get through anything knowing that.”

“These are our choices,” said Ginny.

“So, do you understand now?” asked Harry.

She thought about it. Her brain simply couldn’t wrap itself around the fact that this was Harry and Ginny. That Ginny would choose to be a slave, or that Harry would take away someone’s free will. But, as she had learned, they weren’t her choices to make.

“I don’t, not really. But I can try to respect it, anyway.”

“Alright then,” said Harry.

“Goodnight, Hermione,” said Ginny.

It wasn’t a very subtle cue, but Hermione took it. She grabbed the satchel she came for off the floor and walked out the door, locking it behind her. She shuddered, trying not to think about what was going to happen in the house. But they were the happiest couple she knew, and she had to keep that in mind to remind herself that it worked for them.

Unlike them, she was not a late night person, and so she Apparated to her flat to get some sleep.

* * *

“You left them in?” asked Harry.

“Only one,” said Ginny. “I didn’t want it to be over.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” grinned Harry.

Together, the couple ran back to the bedroom, leaving their robes sprawl across the hall floor, and jumped onto the bed.

Harry rolled on top of Ginny and kissed her. Ginny wrapped her arms around him and reveled in the feel of his skin on hers, her breasts pressed against his hard chest. Her breath huffed out of her nose, but, as was right, she controlled her instinct to moan into his mouth.

Kissing down her jaw and nibbling her ear – both of which really worked at drawing a moan out of her – Ginny could feel Harry shift his hip, rubbing against her as he did so, and line himself up with her.

He slid into her, slowly. It was a luxurious feeling, the care and love Harry was taking with her, and it was torture. He was obviously doing everything he could to make it as difficult for her as possible to control her enjoyment – and she loved him all the more for it.

As difficult as the training was earlier, this was doubly so. The toys were physical sensation. This was emotional. It wasn’t just the soft hardness that was Harry, sliding in and out of her, filling her in the way that only he could, it was the love and devotion that came with it. He gave her his everything in being what she needed, and she never felt more loved than when he was using her. And being gentle, that was the most torturous thing he could do, and he knew it.

She was holding on by a thread. Her joy and love were entwining with her passion and sensation, and she clenched her control with all her might, doing everything she could to not cry out as her body finally clenched and spasmed around her lover, her hands moving to clasp at the sheets.

And only a puff of air came from her mouth as she held her breath, keeping silent.

“Tell me. Beg me. What do you want?”

“Use me,” she responded. “I’m yours. Just... please... let me...”

And he did. He slammed himself into her, filling her and smacking her clit with his body. Her world exploded into white. She was empty only momentarily before he rammed into her again, forcing her into the mattress, the firm cushion pressing against the plug still within her arse.

Harry, worked up from such a long evening, used her to bring himself off rather quickly. After less than a minute of pounding into her and he yelled out.

Feeling his orgasm, his satisfaction with her triggered her own, and since he made her ask for it, she cried out with abandon, not holding anything back.

When he was done, he collapsed onto her, wrapping his arms under her shoulders, and breathing deeply as he drifted into slumber.

Ginny wrapped her own arms around his back, and basked in the feelings of safety he provided, his weight the ultimate security blanket, his cock, softening, still filling her, possessing her. Knowing that Harry, her everything, was happy and satisfied, she followed him into sleep.


End file.
